Happy Birthday, Mr Mason
by organanation
Summary: Perry is good at discovering surprises, which means Della has gotten very good at planning them.


"Hmm...the fifteenth? I'm definitely booked the fifteenth," Paul said suddenly, causing Perry, Della, and Tragg to look at him strangely.

"Well, how about the sixteenth?" Della asked.

"That's fine. Any day except the fifteenth. I'm very busy that day," Paul reminded.

"It doesn't matter which day you come down," Tragg insisted. "Just so long as you pick a day and stick to it."

"We've got a deposition on the seventeenth," Perry said.

"Sixteenth, then," Della decided.

"Sixteenth, sure," Tragg agreed, writing it on his memo pad before bidding a fast goodbye and making a hasty exit.

"The sixteenth," Paul repeated. "Sounds like just the _perfect_ day for renewing licenses."

Perry looked suspiciously between Paul and Della.

"You don't find it the least bit suspicious that _Tragg _had to come all the way down here for us to schedule that?" Perry asked.

Paul shrugged. "He...he...he was probably in the neighborhood. Just stopped by because we're such good customers."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Perry scoffed. "Why else would he have come to confirm the date? My birthday is that week, and you try every year to plan a surprise party."

Della put her hands on her hips. "And you think we'd go to the trouble of enlisting Tragg for help in pulling off a simple birthday ruse?"

"You're quite crafty. I wouldn't put it past you and your shrewd mind."

"Ah give it a rest, Perry. It's nothing. You're just too suspicious," Paul said nervously.

"Della, I think I'll be busy that day. Too busy for a party, at least," Perry teased with a glint in his eye.

"Honestly, Perry Mason, you are the _worst_," Della complained. "You spoil your birthday every year."

"You can't surprise me. I'm impossible to surprise," Perry contested. "I notice things too well."

Della sighed. "I suppose you're right. You wouldn't have gotten this far if you didn't."

"Quite right," Perry agreed as Paul walked toward the back door of the office.

Della looked at Paul with a conspiratorial smile as she closed the door behind him.

"If anyone could surprise you, I think it would be me," she returned.

"And I hope you give it your best," Perry challenged.

"Oh, I will. I certainly will."

00

"Mr. Brent is here. He wants a word about a lease," Della informed.

"Send him in," Perry agreed, setting aside his paperwork. Della showed their landlord to the chair opposite Perry and took a chair for herself.

"I apologise for the short notice, but this is urgent." Perry gestured for the man to continue. "I've discovered that an office on the twelfth floor is being used as a cover for an illegal gambling operation."

"Well, I suggest you call the police," Perry advised. "Whom do we know in bunco, Della?"

"I can't prove it. Not yet, at least. I'd hate to get the police involved if it's nothing. That space is very large and very difficult to rent. I'd hate to lose them if it is a legitimate business," Mr. Brent said quickly.

"What would you like me to do?" Perry asked, folding his hands on his desk.

"I've asked Drake to take a look into it, see what he can dig up. I'd like to make sure I won't be implicated in anything-legally, you know, through the lease, if it should come out that there is something illicit happening."

"There shouldn't be. I'll look into the matter and get back to you."

"I'll be grateful for that. I wouldn't want something to happen…"

00

Della was folded into her chair behind his desk as they diligently worked through all the correspondence that had piled up while they were in court.

It was nearly time to knock off-he was certain he was in the clear from one of Della and Paul's little birthday escapades. Only about seven more hours, and he was free of this nonsense for the next 364 days.

"And, in response to your letter of the...whatever it was, please be advised that-" the telephone interrupted his dictating.

"Yes, Gertie?" Della paused for a moment, listening to the receptionist. "It's Mr. Brent," she whispered. Perry nodded. "Put him on, Gertie." She passed the receiver to Perry.

"Mason? Something's happened-well, you'd best come up and see for yourself. I'm on the twelfth floor."

00

Perry pushed open the office door. It seemed deserted-no usual office clutter on the desks, nothing hanging on the walls, just dusty furniture stacked in the center of the room.

No sign of Mr. Brent. Perry walked around the pile of furniture and stopped abruptly.

A man in a brown suit was slumped on his side, a pool of blood collected near his head. Perry walked around the body, giving it a wide berth, and bent down to see if he could identify the man.

"Go back to the office. Call Paul and cancel dinner tonight," Perry sighed. "We're going to be here for a while. I'll phone the police down the hall."

"Who is it?" Della asked warily.

"It's Hamilton Burger."

00

Perry knelt beside the body reaching out to search for a pulse he knew he'd never find.

Burger's eyes flashed open just as Perry reached his sleeve, startling him and sending him careening backwards.

"Happy birthday, Mason," the DA said laughingly as he sat up.

The door to the back hall banged open and several people jumped out from the closet and inner offices.

"Surprise!"

Perry looked around in shock for a moment. Paul had a bottle of champagne. Mr. Brent and Lieutenant Tragg were holding a cake between them. Burger was wiping off the fake blood with a rag. And Della, the little minx, was grinning wickedly and looking at Perry with a very pleased expression on her face.

"Surprise, Chief," she chorused. "I told you I could do it."

00

The night ended as they often did-sitting on a sofa with his feet kicked up on the coffee table with Della tucked up beside him.

"I can't believe you pulled that off," Perry admitted.

"It was going to be just a regular surprise party until you decided to brag that you are unsurpriseable," Della teased, not moving from her place against his side.

"I deserved that," Perry admitted. Della nodded. "I should have learned long ago never to challenge you," he chuckled.

"Admitting defeat?" she asked with a smirk.

"To you, my dear, I can admit anything," he whispered. "Just promise me you'll never become the DA. I'd never win a case again."

"Promise," she replied, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips. "Happy Birthday, Mr. Mason."

_AN: It may be Perry's birthday in this story but it's my birthday IRL and I'd love a review from you to celebrate! Thanks for reading!_


End file.
